Imprint
by LilikoMizu
Summary: An imprint of Clarke's mind is still within the Flame. This is a story of what this imprint will do with her new reality. "While the battle weary Wanheda of the real world stood up stiffly to relay her apocolyptic news of global radiation to Bellamy Blake; Clarke Griffin, the most recent and most short lived commander the Flame had ever bonded with, stood..." Clexa.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing.

Clarke opened her eyes and felt the heavy weight of reality hang from every single humming cell in her body. The freshness of her artificial self from the City of Light fell away, as if it were a dreamy memory of simpler, sweeter times. Every true pain came to her then, screaming in wretched agony; replacing the relief and hope she had just experienced after pulling the kill switch, with an aching, primative need for healing and attention. The two stings in her chest from where her mother had stabbed her with a surgical scalple throbbed dully, swollen and most likely infected. Nausea squeezed at her stomach, twisting it into knots; an early sign of transfusion rejection. Her skin was sweat soaked and ashen, and dark circles hung from her eyes revealing the haunting and sleepless nights of the past week.

While her body cried out in its misery, the people in the room around her moaned too; feeling the pains of battle that A.L.I.E had denied from them for the sake of her benign human salvation. Her mother was by her side then, examing her vitals and caressing her in a timid, motherly way. It would be some time before Abby could touch Clarke again without the shaking guilt of her daughter's torture at her hands.

Murphy called for some attention, his hand still pumping Ontari's black heart. Clarke leaned forward and spoke the archaic code to dislodge the Flame from her nervous system. It hurt to feel tendrils of the Flame retract from the ends of her consciousness, as if she were letting go of the hand of a dearly beloved friend. But she and the Flame were not meant to be, and so she was left with only one souvenir for her time with the Flame and the CIty of Light; a bleeding hole on the nape of her neck.

The Flame, however, was 1.76 grams of unfeeling fiberglass and silicon, and experienced no joy, pain, or sorrow at the loss of connection betweein its host. It, instead, returned to an electronic hybernation state until it was powered on again to bond with a new 'night blood'. Despite its creator's best, albeit rushed, updated programming from the original A.L.I.E. code, the Flame's design to interpret and process the emotions and needs of its host never manifested a proper understanding of the feeling of loss. For the Flame never truly lost its host. After input was permanently lost from one commander, their data would be saved, and a new commander, and thus a new connection and input, would take their place.

And so, while the battle weary Wanheda of the real world stood up stiffly to relay her apocolyptic news of global radiation to Bellamy Blake; Clarke Griffin, the most recent and most short lived commander the Flame had ever bonded with, stood freshly showered and well rested before Becca Primeheda in the Polaris space laboratry, 23,000 miles about the Earth.

Clarke's eyes scanned the room. Her obvious questions racing across her face with a creasing of the brow and a deepening of a frown. Becca, unable to stop from smiling proudly at the young girl, took a moment to feel absolved of her responsibility at having created the devastatingly destructive A.I. that was A.L.I.E 1.0, a relief nearly 100 years in the making.

"Why am I still here?" Clarke asked, huskily. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, fear at the possibility of her failure to flip the kill switch in time or maybe her death in the real world or some other unknown horror, filled her imagination.

"Don't be afraid." Becca said, almost automatically. "Your spirit will live on within the Flame." Clarke furrowed her brow at the woman. She shifted her weight to another foot, and felt that the boots that had once rubbed her feet raw were now seemingly a second, protective skin. The blisters had hidden themselves, or perhaps had disappeared as well.

Becca squared her shoulders and straightened her spine.

"I know that you were raised in space, Clarke Griffin, and I know that you were educated in science, history, medicine, and technology in a way that no other commander has had in nearly a century." Becca's eyes softened at the young girl, feeling a connection with the high level of scientific understanding that Clarke possessed.

"An imprint of your neurological input has been saved to the drive of Version 2.0 of A.L.I.E.," Clarke pressed her lips, expressing her most concerning question with the thinning line of her mouth.

"The You in reality has continued on. Hopefully, You will be able to find a way to either stop the nuclear power plants from melting or maybe You will secure a safety zone away from the incoming radiation. If Version 2.0 is placed into the body of another commander, we might be able to see how far along You are getting, or maybe how You have succeeded in saving the human race entirely." Becca smiled and paused briefly as she omitted the option of failure to do either of these tasks.

"But the you that is standing here now is the last input Version 2.0 recieved from your neurological transmission." Becca stepped forward sympathetically.

"This you isn't real, Clarke," she said lowly, "You will not age, and you will contract disease. You can still feel pain, but it is only pain that you have experienced previously in your life. You can be hurt, but that hurt is limited to only what your mind feels it to be."

Clarke searched Becca's eyes, absorbing the information of what she would now have to percieve as her new reality.

Becca glanced at her transparent montitors fixed on the opposite wall and held a hand out to the circular door with a white raven painted on it. Side by side the first and the latest commander walked to the door.

"Everywhere you go in here is formed from the memories of the commanders before you. Everything your senses percieve will be how the commanders percieved those things." Becca stopped and stared pitingly into Clarke's eyes. "The burden every commander must bear is the eternity they must spend here. We can advise the newest commander when they are still living, but aside from that advice, we have no contact with the outside reality. We are here until Version 2.0 is no longer needed and thusly, destroyed."

Becca's eyes pressed into Clarke's. "A good analogy for this place would be purgatory, as described in the story of the nine levels of hell in Dante's Inferno."

Clarke felt a deepening pit of dread forming in her stomach. Fear was creeping into her thoughts, fear for her friends, her mother, for the human race; and yet she was stuck in purgatory, unable to help anyone or do anything.

"There is some good news though," Becca continued. "Travel between the interpretations of the previous commander's minds is freely accessable, as well as communication with the imprints of those commanders."

Clarke's heart swelled painfully in her chest.

"And it seems that the 'City of light' that A.L.I.E. 1.0 created is still functioning. You can visit there if you choose. And my readings say that some of Lexa kom Trikru's imprinted code is still running."

Clarkes' mouth and throat went dry.

A thousands hopes and fears clashed together in Clarke's chest as she processed Becca's words.

"What do you mean 'some of Lexa's code'?" Clarke said, swallowing the images her brain was creating of 'some of Lexa'.

"During her battle of those minds 'chipped' by A.L.I.E., Commander Lexa kom Trikru sustained deletion from her code." Becca's voice become monotonous as she began reviewing the information she needed to relay to Clarke. Her assistants from the past called this Becca's 'professor' voice.

"When you find her, she will appear damaged. But this can be repaired by revisiting the location of where her last input was recieved. In that location there will be a ghost file that has the original code, which can replace the deleted portions of Lexa's code." Becca gestured to Raven's door.

"It seems that this will always be a door to the City of Light and to here." Becca smiled at Clarke, "Lexa's imprint should still be through here."

Clarke wanted nothing more than to run through Raven's door and discover if what Becca was saying was true. But she hesitated, still swaying from the information of her new reality.

"Why don't you come with me, and tell me where to find her?" She asked suspiciously

Becca waved the question aside.

"I need to stay here. I need to calculate numbers and conjure up scenarios that can help the human race win against the melting nuclear power plants, in case a new commander ascends and comes here seeking our advice. I need to help them if they come. If I can help them, then maybe l..." Becca trailed off, haunted by the failings of her past self, and of the limitations of her current self.

Clarke felt empathy for the guilt that this woman must feel. Guilt was a burden that nearly everyone seemed to carry alone. She held out her arm.

"When I find Lexa, we'll come back to help you." She promised sincerely.

Becca hesitatnly took Clarke's arm and squeezed the young commander's arm gently, unused to contact with another person. "I'll send you clues along the way." She promised in return.

As Clarke turned to go through Raven's door, Becca gripped Clarke's arm more urgently.

"Remember that this is like purgatory, Clarke Griffin. Your perceptions of what will happen, and your feelings you percieve aren't real now. They WERE real, what you felt before the disconnection of yourself and Version 2.0 are the only feelings you can experience here."

Memories of every poingnant emotion she'd every had flashed through Clarke's mind and a smile spread slowly across her face.

"It's okay." She said squeezing Becca's arm back. "It's more than enough."

With that being said, Clarke released the Primeheda's arm and pulled open Raven's door to reveal the starless night and wet streets of the City of Light.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for your interest in this fanfic. I own nothing.

The fear and awe that Clarke had first felt when she had entered the City of Light spread across her back and covered her shoulders. She glanced left and right, uneasy.

She pulled Raven's door shut, and pressed it lightly, ensuring that it was locked, before walking away from the door and A.L.I.E.'s firewall. The night air was damp and temperate, meant to be comfortable for any citizen to stroll through with a fancy, well-tailored jacket, but for Clarke the air was as stale and manufactured as if she were on the Ark again. She glanced back at the chain-link fence, double checking for any possible threats.

The wall was gone.

Whether that was good or bad, Clarke decided it was not her first priority to be concerned about and began to jog along the route that Lexa and she had taken to get to this point.

Lexa was somewhere in the city. She was THERE. And she was injured.

An odd pattern of black paint began to dot the center of the grey concrete as Clarke pressed on. Partial foot prints and scrapes of the dried, dark paint became more and more prominent on the otherwise and immaculate road, but at a particularly large puddle, Clarke needed to stop and dip her middle finger into it's center. Her heart beat painfully in her ears as the familiarity of the the consistency and drying rate of the liquid concluded that it was, in fact, not paint. It was blood. Night blood. Lexa's.

Clarke felt wild, springing up from beside the puddle and setting her pace at a dead run, the trail of black blood leading the way. At some points it zig zagged across the road, at others, it decorated a wall in smashed and splattered masterpieces. Sometimes there would be so few droplets to show her the way that Clarke would lose her breath, panic stricken. But the blood only thinned for a moment before the trail became obvious again, a blessing to Clarke, but not, she knew, for Lexa.

At last she came to a black top road. The trail disappeared into the fresh asphalt, and Clarke was left panting, scanning each direction for another clue.

"Lexa!" She called out. Her voice echoed against the silence of the city, bouncing off of polished windows and refined steel. The City was ON. Lights were cutting through the night, and the gentle hum of machinery and generators radiated from every building.

It was suffocating; how alone she felt in the city. Not a single life form moved for the miles and miles that this city seemed to encompass. Even when she had been surviving in the woods for three months, there were grounders to avoid or to trade with. Animals were always calling out in the day and in the middle of the night, and there was always food and water and space that she needed to share. Yet here in the City of Light, the most perfect place she could ever dream of or imagine, there wasn't even a cricket chirping in the night.

She strained her ears, listening for any sort of human reply.

Indecision was unacceptable at this point, so as Clarke turned towards her left to begin her search, a blinking light amidst the city caught her eye to the right. Between two buildings a quarter of a mile away, a white lemniscate flashed on and off on a crosswalk sign.

There was a brief moment of gratitude that swelled within Clarke before she bolted towards the flashing sign.

She arrived out of breath and sweating at the sign. The lemniscate flashed once more and then the sign went entirely black. Clarke pursed her lips, but a quick search around the pole and surrounding side walk revealed a fresh trail of night blood. Off she went again, running at first, then jogging, then, at last, at a puzzling walk.

This new blood trail had larger droplets clustering much closer together, and they did not zig, zag, or paint the sides of the buildings like they had before. Lexa was slowing down and, from what Clarke could assume, she wasn't fighting any more.

Clarke rounded another corner, revealing a street lined with young, manicured trees with small lights wound within their branches and buildings with gold and silver writing labling each of the beautiful buildings down the road as royal suites this or luxary condos that. Square bushes and over-blossoming flowers filled up every inch of dirt alloted to them, and warm yellow lights glowed from each window and glass door.

And smudging this clean and enchanting street, that was otherwise perfect, as all things were in the City of Light, was a ragged scrap of humanity, leaning against a young, well-lit tree and darkening it with her dripping black blood.

"Lexa!" Clarke cried out, choking on her relief and concern.

Lexa turned her head stiffly towards Clarke. Blood was running from ear and down the curve of her neck, the ear drum likely shattered. Upon seeing Clarke, her face contorted with fear.

"Clarke?" She whispered, reaching out with her right arm. Clarke was there on the ground with her, touching her face gingerly before scanning Lexa's body for the extent of her injuries.

"Clarke, no. Why..." Lexa couldn't stop Clarke's probing hands as she checked for all points of bleeding and abnormally bent limbs that could be seen through Lexa's warrior attire.

"It's okay." Clarke reassured her, breathless. She searched Lexa's eyes, finding familiar dilated, green eyes staring back at her. She leaned in and stole a lingering, desperate kiss. Lexa's hand was at the back of her neck with her thumb caressing Clarke's jawline tenderly. Clarke pulled back, tears falling freely from her sky blue eyes. She thought, for a moment, that she could probably fly right now, she was so elated. But Lexa's concern was nearly tangible as she, in return, began scanning Clarke for injuries.

"Becca led me here. I'm going to fix you." Clarke said loudly towards Lexa's right ear, ripping at her shirt and holding the cloth to the other actively bleeding ear.

"Are you..." Lexa's eyes wildly questioned Clarke, glistening as if with heartbroken tears. She held her hand to Clarke's heart, as if checking for a strong and steady beat.

"I'm fine." Clarke held Lexa's hand with her own, before pressing the bloody hand to her face. "I'm alive and everything's going to be okay."

Lexa deflated with relief; nearly invisible tears ran down her face, extending the tips of her black war paint.

They sat like that for a moment, existing for once at utter peace with one another. Until Clarke, pulled away the soaked makeshift bandage from Lexa's ear. The bleeding had not slowed, and there were no signs that the blood was clotting.

"Lexa," Clarke nearly whispered, "how long has this been bleeding?"

Lexa's eyes took a moment to register's Clarke's question.

"It's... been a while." She admitted groggily. Clarke felt as if she were falling into herself again. She nearly kicked herself from not properly examining the extent of the damage done to Lexa during her fight. The dilation in Lexa's eyes was perhaps not entirely out of love and relief, but mostly likely from exhaustion, dehydration, pain, and blood loss. A lot of blood loss.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks everyone. I appreciate your interest. I own nothing.

A.L.I.E had designed the City of Light to be any modern person's delight. There was no pain or no fear, and no rush in the city. Citizens had no need for medical facilities or their products and services, and every desire was tailored to each person's specific tastes. Food never ran out and entertaining events were available at every corner. Each citizen was given their own space and materials, and they could express their own individual personality to their fullest and unhindered extent; so long as it did not interfere with any other citizen's personality, or with A.L.I.E.'s overarching goal. Each member of the City of Light was so enlightened and at peace with one another that they seemed to move and to speak as one united people; connected by their savior, A.L.I.E.. No barriers, physical or mental, were erected between these all-loving people. Except for doors; which could serve as both an aesthetic compliment to the architecture of a building, and could give a psychological comfort to certain residents, replicating a sense of privacy and security from the reality A.L.I.E. had once saved them from.

It was through one of these aesthetically pleasing doors that the wearied Clarke Griffin assisted/carried the hunched, bleeding body of Lexa kom Trikru.

Desperate for a place to perform a more thorough physical examination, Clarke had urged and cajoled Lexa into entering one of the A.I.'s deceitfully perfect buildings. They were offered a long corridor with seemingly identical white plaster doors, and upon taking the nearest door on the right, Clarke and Lexa found themselves inside a cozy, nondescript condominium.

The lights of the condo were already on and without hesitation Clarke led Lexa to a clean grey couch stationed beneath wide bay windows. An uneven trail of black blood followed their progress. Lexa winced as she gingerly sat and then laid down on the couch. Clarke offered Lexa a small comfort in the form of a gentle touch to her cheek. Her fingers then went quickly to work; undoing the belts, straps, and buckles of Lexa's scabbards, coat, and pants. Each article of clothing was messily deposited onto a nearby sitting chair, until Lexa was left in nothing but her underwear and a long sleeve shirt.

Lexa was unable to raise her left arm to remove that top, and this made Clarke purse her lips, knowing that it could be a symptom with a wide range of possible maladies. She unsheathed Lexa's menacing knife and held its sharpened edge to the hem of Lexa's shirt. Lexa's blushed, and searched Clarke's eyes, almost as if asking quietly for forgiveness. Clarke swallowed and gave her best effort to put on a small smile, fearful at what she might find, and haunted by what she had found the last time she had opened Lexa's shirt.

The rough material of the top cut away easily, revealing Lexa's breathtakingly toned body. Her skin was lightly tanned from training under the warm Earth's sun, and her tattoos stood out as badges of honor from the conquests and battles in her life. A white wrapping covered and bound her chest securely, but painted underneath it and down nearly the entire left side of her body was a black and purple-red discoloration that made Clarke sick to her stomach.

She straightened herself and paced through the condo, searching in closets and drawers for cotton material. She found an ample supply in the form of a set of bleached cotton sheets, and she began cutting at the edges with her teeth as she walked back to Lexa.

Lexa regarded Clarke's work hazily, half focused on Clarke, and half focused on the seemingly unending pain that radiated from her left side. There was no dulling of this continual pain. It was, to her, as if she were being pounded with the same blows that had caused her injuries in the first place, over and over again. At every. Single. Moment.

Clarke sat down on her knees beside the couch and held her hands above the swollen, affected area. She glanced back at Lexa.

"This will hurt." She said gravely.

At that moment, the greatest desire to smile tugged at Lexa's mouth. But she didn't, allowing Clarke to probe and touch her in any way she needed to.

Clarke traced the bones in Lexa's arm with a light pressure. Lexa stopped her half way down the humerus, quietly informing the golden goddess before her that she could no longer feel her touch. Clarke reached down and lightly pinched the fingers of Lexa's left hand, one by one. There was no response.

Clarke's frown deepened.

She gingerly lifted Lexa's arm and began her tracing of the ribs. The bottom three were fractured and at odd angles. Clarke stood and went to the connecting kitchen to grab a wooden spoon that she had seen on her previous search.

She held in to Lexa's lips and in a silent understanding, Lexa bit down the spoon, steeling herself for a new and fiery pain. Clarke laid one hand down across Lexa's rib cage as a support for her next action. She inhaled deeply and with lightening speed she dug up and under Lexa's ribs through her abdomen and pressed the fractured ribs back into place.

The pain was excruciating. And Lexa tried her best to only scream once.

Clarke removed both of her hands from Lexa's chest and quickly placed them onto the sides of Lexa's face, whispering soft, comforting words.

Lexa looked up into Clarke's eyes, her chest heaving shallowly, and painfully. Despite her broken state, her war paint remained intact and was as intimidating as ever. She looked as if she were the warrior embodiment of her people's mantra: Our fight is not over. HER fight was not over.

Clarke's chin wobbled as every affection and tender emotion she had for Lexa bubbled to the surface. She removed the wooden spoon from Lexa's mouth and replaced it with her lips. For 3 blessed seconds, Clarke was making Lexa better.

A sickening crack reverberated from Lexa's lower chest, and a curdled scream threatened to escape from her teeth. Lexa grabbed at Clarke's arm and squeezed as two more cracks followed the first in uniform order.

Clarke pulled away and found that there was fresh black blood on her hands from Lexa's ear, and all three ribs had been re fractured to their seemingly original break.

Clark nearly screamed in her own frustration. She stood again, to begin pacing and thinking of other temporary measures to relieve Lexa's pain, but Lexa's grip on her arm prevented her from stepping away. They stared at one another and spoke, for a moment, with just green and blue eyes. Lexa gave a small tug on Clarke's arm. Clarke knelt down to her knees once more, and bent her head in resignation. Her other hand found Lexa's hand on her arm, and she squeezed it back.

Despite her pain, Lexa could not help but feel unending relief and gratitude at having another moment, another chance, to be next to Clarke.

"I love you, too, Clarke." Lexa croaked.

Clarke let out a defeated laugh, her traitorous eyes letting salty tears pass by their lids and down her cheeks.

They sat like that for a while, bone tired and endlessly in pain. Silently loving each other.

When the arm of the couch became nearly half stained in blood, Clarke could sit no longer. She stood, calmly this time, and went back to the kitchen to fetch them both some water. It was disgustingly easy to get an unending stream of cool, clean water from the kitchen. Clarke wondered, briefly, if they could possibly bring that sort of technology out of this science fiction purgatory and into reality for every living person.

She took a casual way back, noting the subtle and silly luxuries that A.L.I.E.'s homes provided. A reflective black screen, the only decoration of this wall, showed her a frowning, pale blonde ghost staring back at her. She forced a smile and took a faster step to come back Lexa once more.

The movement triggered the screen, and an inflated vision of Becca's head and shoulder's filled the monitor.

"Clarke Griffin and Lexa Kom Trikru?" Becca said clearly, as if her voice surrounded the entire living space.

Lexa stiffened, unused to the ancient technology that worked here, and in awe of the Primeheda of her modern culture.

Clarke squared her shoulders and faced the screen. Questions listed themselves in an un-prioritized fashion within her mind.

"Becca? Is everything alright?" Clarke asked.

Becca blinked slowly at receiving Clarke's reply and seemed to relax slightly.

"I'm still working for solutions to our current problems, and I am exploring A.L.I.E's 'City of Light'," she said lifting her chin, "But I saw that you were near a monitor and I wanted to give you an opportunity to ask me anything or to update me on anything crucial."

"Do you have a solution for the world's nuclear melt downs?" Clarke asked hopefully.

"Data and variables are running an infinite numbers of outcomes. None are viable yet."

Clarke shifted to her other foot. "Has a new commander ascended yet?" She inquired skeptically.

"No new input has been acquired." Becca responded again.

Clarke's jaw ticked, and she wondered if Becca's overly-professional manner had been off putting at all when she'd been alive in the past. She walked over to the couch and knelt beside Lexa.

"Why won't Lexa stop bleeding, and why can't I reset her bones?" She asked. A valiant effort was made on her part to sound professional, even though she was irreversibly frustrated and tired.

"I told you, Clarke," Becca said slowly. "You need to go to Lexa's last viable input location to retrieve the ghost file of her original data,"

Lexa did not even pretend to understand this response.

"Once the original data is recopied onto her corrupted data, the damage she appears to have should be fixed."

"But how do we get there? How do we navigate the City of Light to even reach this last input location?" Clarke's voice was getting huskier, drained by tears and irritation.

Becca seemed pleased by this question and cocked her head to each side in a preparatory manner.

"When you took the chip while bonded with the Version 2.0 of A.L.I.E.'s code, the 'City of Light' became a permanent file within Version 2.0. A.L.I.E was version 1.0, thusly her code was a master code, only superseded by Version 2.0. Because of this, the city is a center hub contained within the larger code of Version 2.0. You will be able to travel to any commander's file through this city, including mine, as you know Clarke." Becca did her best to include both girls in her lecture, but she knew most of these concepts would go over Commander Lexa's head, and even some would go over Clarke's.

"Within this city, there is an access portal to Lexa's file, where her last input location can be found. This location, I believe, is the door frame to Clarke's bedroom within 'Polis', just before Lexa was shot by her subordinate, Titus. This is the last healthy, viable input that Version 2.0 received."

Becca was about to continue, but the broken look in the eyes of both young girls before her gave her pause. Clarke reached subtly for Lexa's good hand and squeezed it. Becca could remember the love she had once had nearly one hundred years ago, and it gutted her to know that it was gone forever, physically and digitally. Her mouth twitched and she focused all of her attention on Clarke.

"Clarke. It is very late." She said slowly and deliberately. "It is very late, and you are very tired. You should be resting."

Clarke's brow furrowed in confusion. "I know l'm tired..." She began, her eyes glazing slowly and growing heavy. "And it's late, but...but..." She couldn't finish her sentence as her body sagged against the couch. Her eyes closed and the furrow in her brow smoothed. She was gone, resting peacefully for the first time in months, her hand still folded into Lexa's.

"The mind is more powerful here." Becca explained, talking solely to Lexa. "If you think you should be one way, you are more likely to be that way; now that the physical restrictions of reality don't prevent your mind from doing what it is you think you should be doing."

Lexa sighed, waiting patiently for the Primeheda to explain herself plainly.

"If you believe yourself to be someway, you are going to be that way here." Becca simplified. "For example, if you think you are tired, your body will rest. If you are hungry, there will be food, etc." Becca gave a wane smile. Lexa thought for a moment on this principle, repeating it over and over in her pain addled mind.

"Thank you, Becca." Lexa said sincerely at last. "For everything." Becca, not usually left speechless by gratitude or praise, swallowed and waited for Lexa to begin her own line of questioning.

But Lexa was silent. Content with a bleeding ear, broken ribs, and endless pain. Content, because it was by Clarke's side.

Becca cleared her throat. "You know how to get back from here, but there aren't any monitors in your world for me to talk to you, so you'll have to come back to the city or to Polaris to talk with me again." Lexa offered a small appreciative smile and lowered her lids in a half nod to the Primeheda.

"Do you have any questions?" Becca pressed, wanting desperately to prepare the young woman for anything that was to come.

Lexa thought for a moment, glancing around the condo for possible visual clues. Her eyes were drawn to Clarke's head, half on her stomach, half on the couch. She looked back at the monitor.

"Could you please extinguish the lights in here?" She asked.

Becca scrutinized the seriousness of the question before giving a small smile to the young Commander. The screen of the monitor faded and went dark, and the lights in the condominium all flickered off. The only light left in the apartment filtered in from the warm tree lights from the street outside. Without breaking the hold, Lexa pulled her arm out from underneath Clarke's head and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her thumb rubbed small circles onto the back of Clarke's hand, and in the quite darkness, Lexa thanked every God, spirit, and creature that had ever existed for this one moment that she was able to have with Clarke.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all. Your reviews keep me writing. I own nothing

To say that Clarke woke up angrily would have been grossly understated. She gasped and bolted upright from the couch, questions and harsh words bouncing on the tip of her tongue. She could feel that time had passed, too much time for her liking, and her entire back itched with that irritation. While her body and mind were fully rested and refreshed, her mood was black and she glared at the dark screen on the wall where she had last seen Becca, ready to spit profanities at the Primeheda's underhanded tricks. A shallow hiss gave her pause though, and a small squeeze of her hand reminded her that Lexa was still wrapped around her. An injured, bleeding, and perfectly beautiful Lexa.

They held each other's eyes for a moment; green and blue held captive by the other, each questioning and answering in the same instant. Clarke deflated, leaning unconsciously closer to Lexa. Lexa smiled shyly and gratefully. Clarke closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Lexa's cheek and sighed, giving her love a reassuring squeeze of the hand. No matter what had passed, Lexa was still there. Alive.

Sunlight gently warmed the room and the mechanical white noise of the city offered a rhythmic, wakeful heartbeat that would have been enticing and alluring to any creature that A.L.I.E. had captured before. But Clarke, outside of Lexa's embrace, could not feel at peace in this false city. She ached for the living and breathing forests she had come to adopt on the ground; that offered food, water, and shelter that you had to earn or build with your own two hands. She longed to feel cold or over heated or thirsty again, as long as it was back in that home again.

A faint voice deep her subconscious reminded her that she would never feel those things again, for she, this city, and this entire world were only silicon and data. But instead of listening to that voice, Clarke focused all of her energy on remembering the way some of the hair on the top of her head moved when Lexa breathed in and out.

Shakily. Lexa breathed shakily, and irregularly. Clarke opened her eyes. She felt the desperate urge to start moving, to start fixing what she could fix. She tensed to sit up, but Lexa let out a soft shushing noise. Clarke relaxed and waited for her to speak. "Clarke, do you remember the stairs that A.L.I.E.'s army attacked on?" Lexa asked softly.

Clarke thought of the chipped army catching up to her, of the crippling pain in her stomach as she fell and began to be beaten and kicked by the fastest and closest drones that A.L.I.E. had sent. She remembered Lexa flying through the air, her battle cry shocking her targets as she slew them where they stood. She remembered every hope and dream that she could have had of seeing Lexa again come true, and her heart felt like it had restarted and began to truly beat again. She would never forget those stairs. She nodded.

"There is a tunnel just beyond those stairs. The tunnel leads to a train, a real train, Clarke," Lexa said breathlessly, "it will take us to Polis."

Clarke nodded again, sitting up fully. "Then let's go." She said huskily. She wanted nothing more than for Lexa to be well and whole again. She had wished for nothing else ever since Titus had pulled the trigger of the gun that would lead to Lexa's first death.

Lexa's left ear was ringing, but with concentration from her right ear and some visual clues she was able to understand what Clarke had said. Slowly, and with Clarke's assistance, she was able to sit up and set her feet on the ground. Even with that slight movement, she was still panting at the end of her exertion.

"Clarke." She said, clenching her jaw. Clarke knelt beside her, checking her bleeding ear and useless left arm.  
"I'll make a sling." Clarke promised, squeezing Lexa's thigh lightly. She went back through the condo to the source of cotton sheets, and found, to her questioning surprise that new sheets had been restocked to take the place of those that had been taken the night before. Clarke felt sick to her stomach to think that someone had come in and replaced them, but her assurance that A.L.I.E and her chipped followers were gone lead her to conclude that this was a simple trick of the City of Light. An unending supply of whatever the occupants might need or want, probably. Restocked when the occupants weren't looking.

She stole the sheets, again, and began ripping them into a comfortable and functional sling. Lexa hissed as Clarke slid her arm into the sling, and her eyes searched the ceiling for relief. Clarke looked at the sitting chair where Lexa's things had been haphazardly thrown the night before. She picked up the shreds of Lexa's shirt and set them obviously aside. Lexa's jacket would have to be her only covering for the rest of the journey. She held it up and straightened it slightly and turned to assist Lexa's good arm into a sleeve. Lexa held up her hand.

"Clarke, I must wash my face." She said solemnly.

Clarke could have laughed at the ridiculousness of this statement. But instead she stared incredulously at Lexa.

"Clarke, I need to wash the paint from my face." Lexa said again.

"We don't have time for that." Clarke said in return, flabbergasted at this request. Was Lexa becoming delirious? Were her injuries exasperating?

"The battle is over, and we are going to Polis. A commander enters Polis in peace." Lexa explained slowly.

"You are dying, and you want to wash your face?" Clarke reiterated.

"Clarke." Lexa said sharply, her eyes dark. "I know how it is to die, and I am not dying." Clarke's heart clenched painfully, threatening to stop beating entirely.

Lexa softened, a thin trail of black blood trickled down her collar bone and onto her wrapped chest.

"Beja." She said again. "Please."

Clarke could no more refuse the sun from the sky than whatever Lexa could have asked for when she said 'please'. She went to the kitchen and wordlessly filled a bowl with water. She took some decorative towels from the stove and an animal shaped bar of soap from the sink, and returned to kneel before Lexa.

"Let me." She half demanded, half begged. Lexa parted her lips at Clarke kneeling before her and nodded, closing her eyes.  
Clarke dipped the dish towel in the water, scrubbed it with the soap to make a faint lather, wrung it slightly, and gently began to wipe away the dark mask around Lexa's eyes. It was satisfying to take the blackness from Lexa's face and place it in the clear bowl of water instead. Clarke worked slowly, taking care to be gentle but thorough in her cleaning. Lexa didn't move, and barely breathed, lest she disturb the angel working to accommodate her.

"Open." Clarke said, inches from Lexa's face, examining her cheeks and temples for any missed spots. Lexa opened her eyes and held her breath. She'd never seen Clarke so... uninjured before. No scars or bruises marring her face, an incorrigible beauty mark to the side of her upper lip. Lexa nearly cursed at the state of her broken body for being unable to properly care for this beauty from the sky.

Clarke took one last swipe at Lexa's high cheek bone, before she lowered the towel to Lexa's chest and began wiping and dabbing at the trail of blood that marched incessantly downward from Lexa's ear. After a moment of useless cleaning, Clarke rested her hand and towel against Lexa's chest, right above where her heart was beating wildly and, to Lexa, too loudly.

Clarke raised her sky blue eyes to the forest green of Lexa's and in that moment both of their hearts were in their throats. Clarke took her liberties and leaned forward to kiss Lexa. She would not miss any opportunity to do so this time around she promised silently. She kissed Lexa's lips, her cheeks, her chin. She wanted to kiss them all for eternity.

Despite her injuries, Lexa memorized the angle and the spark of every kiss Clarke gave to her, and she reciprocated as best she could in return. Clarke broke first and rested for a moment, cheek to cheek, against Lexa. Each girl desperately wanted more. But they needed to move on, as evident by the sticky black blood that began to pool around Clarke's fingers.

Clarke stood with a sigh and donned Lexa's weaponry. She held out her hand and, with care, she was able to lift/pull Lexa to her feet. She helped Lexa put her jacket on, one arm in the sleeve, one arm in a sling pressed to close to her body. Even without her shirt on, and being bent over from half a dozen broken bones, Lexa was still as intimidating and commanding as ever. Her air of grace made Clarke's heart flutter. She put herself under Lexa's right arm and slowly, slowly they made their way out of the cookie-cutter condominium and back out onto the pristine streets of the City of Light. 


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you. Your reviews are my favorite. I own nothing.

Apparently messiness was unacceptable in the City of Light. For as Clarke and Lexa slowly exited through the glass doors of the condominium complex, the night blood trail that had so helpfully lead Clarke back to Lexa the night before, had been thoroughly erased.

Clarke's heart beat against her ears as she thought of the long, arduous journey ahead of them. She half wished that Becca would send them some form of transportation to speed up their travels; a horse or two preferably, but that wish would go unanswered. There was no rush within the City of Light, and walking for normal residents was delightful and refreshing. But each step for Lexa was gut wrenchingly painful and stiff, and while she tried to cover her breath, it still came in shallow, raspy gasps each time she put weight onto her left leg.

The bushes, trees, and potted plants that were on their path were also suspiciously strange, or at the very least, had odd life cycles. Each different specie of vegetation, no matter its size or age, began to bloom almost immediately after Clarke or Lexa would lay their eyes upon it. Vibrant reds, yellows, and blues welcomed the girls to their great city, while soft pinks and delicate whites warmly encouraged them to stay and enjoy the sights. A small shiver ran up Clarke's back at the unnaturally alluring beauty of these plants. And she did her best to ignore each pretty flower that tried its' best to impress the girls as they slowly made their way through the city.

Shops seemed to have stocked their windows with enticing objects made specifically for each girl as they passed. Restaurants without chefs or bakers had the wonderful smell of breakfast wafting through the air. Lexa, absorbed in powering through her pain, seemed not to notice. Clarke, on the other hand, did notice, but ignored these gifts that the city laid before her. There were many more roads to cross before they would reach the stairs that would lead them to the tunnel with the train station, and these distractions, while tailored specifically to each girl, were invasive and uncomfortable.

An hour passed in the quiet city. The sun made things bright and happy, but it did not over heat the sidewalks or create any unkind humidity. Living fully in this sun would never cause so much as a burn on your nose, and Clarke resented it, and every mild comfort this false city provided.

"Once you're better," She said, finally breaking the silence. "l was hoping we could find a way to help Becca Primeheda."

Lexa glanced at Clarke, her natural instinct to help people distracted her from the throbbing purple bruise on her rib cage. They stepped carefully off of a curb together and crossed a large intersection.

"100 years ago, nuclear power plants were used as energy sources around the world." Clarke continued, guessing at how much of this Lexa already knew. "Before A.L.I.E was destroyed, she said that the cores of those power plants were melting. And she said that when that happens, radiation from those cores would destroy 96% of the survivable land of the world." Clarke readjusted her grip on Lexa's arm as they turned down another shop-filled street. They passed a chess maker's shop before Lexa was able to speak.

"And A.L.I.E.'s word is to be trusted?" She grunted as they side stepped the outdoor seating of a comfy cafe. Clarke glanced at Lexa, and her unusually pale face.

"Should we rest for a moment?" She asked.

"No." Lexa answered, leaning heavily onto Clarke for a moment. "It doesn't stop."

Clarke bit her tongue at the unfairness of Lexa's condition, and touched her own cheek to Lexa's shoulder in soft affection.

"Becca seems to believe it is." Clarke answered, looking out past blooming trees for something familiar. "She's trying to research ways to stop it, so that she can help the next commander, when they ascend."

Lexa nodded faintly, her eyes on her feet as she forced them to keep moving. They were silent for a while; one girl struggling to find unmarked stairs that she'd been to once before and the other struggling to remain upright. They were a grim couple, clearly out of place in this nearly utopic world.

"I tried to force Luna to ascend." Clarke said distractedly. At this Lexa raised her eyebrows and turned her eyes to the small girl beneath her arm.

"She put me on my back." Clarke said dryly.

Lexa grinned in the most affectionate way. She could clearly see Luna, the strongest and biggest of her initiate class, flipping Clarke up and through the air and onto her back. Luna had done it to nearly everyone, including Lexa, multiple times during training. With and without weapons.

"Luna cannot be forced to do anything she does not wish to do." Lexa consoled, still smiling at the distracted Clarke. "She fights when she fights, and doesn't when she doesn't." Lexa's smile slowly faded. "Titus believed her to be a coward, but she would have been a true leader for our people.

She knew that only violence would answer violence. Just as you did, Clarke." Clarke met Lexa's eyes, and squeezed the arm around her shoulder. It would not do well to dwell on the past at that moment so Clarke turned the conversation in another direction.

"How did you find night blood children? Before?" She asked, eyeing what seemed to be a familiar sky scraper.

The ringing in Lexa's ear prevented her from hearing Clarke the first time, and the question had to be repeated.

"When the commander before me ascended, Titus had scouts from every clan go forth and search for children with black blood." She explained. "I was Anya's second at the time."

"It is the duty of the Commander and the Flamekeeper to educate and train the new initiates." Lexa went on. She had to take painfully deep breaths to speak and walk, but it was wonderfully distracting to do so, for both girls as they continued their journey through the clean, grey streets of the City.

"We night bloods were destined to kill one other, but under the commander and Titus we were as brothers and sisters were." Clarke remained silent, half listening to Lexa half scanning her surroundings. She nearly cheered when she saw a familiar set of stairs come into view a few more buildings away. She then refocused their direction, so as to take as few steps as possible to arrive at the stairs.

"I don't understand why you had to kill each other." Clarke mumbled, readjusting her grip around Lexa's waist.

If Lexa could have shrugged, she would have. "It has been the way of our people. It proves who is the best fit to lead us. Blood must have blood gave equality to the first survivors of the war."

Clarke had never heard a grounder speak of the War before.

"But there are so few nightbloods." She pressed. "Because of this fighting, there's almost no one left to take the Flame."

"There will always be someone to take the Flame, Clarke." Lexa said dismissively.

"Lexa, I almost had Ontari ascend because there was no one else to take the Flame." Clarke argued as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Lexa fell silent as they took each step one at a time together.

"Ontari?" She repeated softly.

"She was a terrible dictator and a ruthless..." Clarke swallowed her words. She glanced at Lexa's down cast eyes regretfully.

"So Aden and the others..." Lexa mumbled. Clarke stopped half way up the stairs and turned her head more fully to meet Lexa's eyes.

"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked sorrowfully. Lexa searched Clarke's eyes as if she could maybe see the deaths of her pupils there, before she turned and tried to take another step on her own. She couldn't take it without Clarke, and so they pressed upwards and onwards together.

When they were at the top and on level ground Lexa nodded at an inconspicuous underground entrance that was down another set of stairs and on the other side of the plaza.

"I wanted to change the rules." Lexa said, swallowing down her dry throat as they continued their slow walk. "I wanted to give them a choice. They would have had to fight, yes, but not to the death.

But l put other matters before them, and was never able to speak with Titus on it." She said almost bitterly.

Clarke had had glimpses of Lexa's deep regret of things left undone before her death, but this particular conversation that she had put off would perhaps haunt her for the rest of eternity. Because, Clarke knew, Lexa had nearly raised and loved those children as if they were her own.

They descended the first set of stairs, and took a moment at the bottom for Lexa to catch her breath. The unending torrents of pain were making her consciousness dizzy.

"I can't believe that Becca would create such a harsh selection process." Clarke continued as they started again, Lexa leaning far more onto Clarke that she had originally done at the start of the day.

"It was created by the second commander and the first Flamekeeper." Lexa panted. They had reached the entrance of the train station and they needed to descend two more flights of stairs before reaching the train platform. Lexa began steeling herself for the descent and glanced at the walls of the tunnel.

A polite little sign on the inside of the stairs read : Commander Lexa kom Trikru. They were at the right station.

Lexa wanted to continue her explanation, but could not catch her breath as they took the stairs. Clarke politely said nothing. When they reached the concrete platform, Lexa gulped down the need to vomit.

"There were many night bloods after the war, when Becca Primeheda first came to us." Lexa was able to say after a moment. She urged Clarke to take them to the right side of the platform, and a faint rumbling could be heard deep down in the tunnel.

"Becca was able to choose her successor, as the first commander, but the second commander could not control the people that he lead. They fought over food and land, and divided themselves into the twelve clans, each clan thinking that their own night bloods should be the next commander."

A giant metal tube came rushing through, filling up the entire tunnel and bringing with it the faint scent of pine trees. Clarke was taken aback by the sight of her first train, and Lexa took a small joy in the wonder that crossed Clarke's face.

The doors to the train opened.

"The second commander set up the ascension ceremony, so that each clan believed their own night bloods had a fair chance to ascend." She continued as they crossed the threshold of the train.

"He died soon after the announcement of the ceremony. The third commander, chosen by the commander's spirit, was Kazuki the Giant, the strongest and biggest of any kru there ever was." They sat down on the opposite side of the train facing the doors. Lexa closed her eyes and rested her head on the window, relieved at the accomplishment of making it to the train.

Clarke was listening quite earnestly to Lexa's story, nearly 90% of her attention solely on Lexa and her words. The other 10%, however, could not be taken away from the large intimidating figure dressed in drab grey and black clothes that had exited the train from a different car and was now standing very stoically on the train's platform.

The train doors closed, and they began to move away from the giant person before Clarke could even get a read on their intentions. The view of the platform was replaced by the reflection of Clarke and Lexa sitting beside one another. While she could worry about the appearance of possibly new threat, Clarke could see that no one else was in their car, and so she leaned back and laid her head against Lexa's good shoulder and sighed.

The unnatural splendor of the City of Light was being left behind, and together they were on their way home.


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Readers, thank you. I own nothing.

Years passed.

Or maybe it was seconds. Lexa's consciousness could not register the difference between the two as she and Clarke sat quietly on the well-lit train.

They slid through darkness that reflected neither sound nor light as they passed; Lexa half absorbed in maddeningly constant pain, and Clarke offering what little comfort she could as she fingered a knife around her outer thigh. It was clear that she and Lexa were not alone outside of Becca's laboratory, and whether this unknown company was friendly or hostile was yet to be discovered. To Clarke, 100% of the City of Light residents had been hostile. But the unknown wanderer that she had seen had exited FROM the train. Were there other residents in Lexa's world as well?

As she opened her mouth to ask Lexa these questions, light and shapes erupted in the windows of the train. It wasn't a glamorous view of pine trees or buildings of Polis, but grey light revealed a train station platform similar to that of the one they had entered from. Similar to the extent that it was also a train station platform. This platform was dilapidated and nearly crumbling, with creeping moss that required little sunlight growing in patches underneath dripping cracks in the platform's ceiling. This pathetic sight comforted Clarke in a most endearing way, assuring her that they had indeed arrived back to the world that she and Lexa had come from.

The doors to the train opened, and remained politely open as Clarke helped to lift Lexa from her seat and, together, slowly stagger into the damp air of the moldy platform. The train doors closed as they exited, and without adieu it was gone again into the swallowing darkness of the tunnel.

Clarke felt immediately at home again, her senses sharp to the wondrous imperfections that created the beautiful Earth that she had first loved and stepped down onto nearly four months prior. The only light on the platform came from a large set of stairs that led to the surface, where a warm and unforgiving sun sat high in its sky. In the distance, birds and insects were singing. Clarke readjusted her grip around Lexa and with determination on each of their faces, they set off to conquer the stairs.

If Lexa knew of any residents, hostile or friendly; Clarke reasoned, then she would have mentioned them.

At the top of the stairs, the two looked out onto the streets of Polis in all of its glory. The hot sun was indeed high in the clear blue sky, fresh produce and roasting meats scented the pine air, and a cool breeze fluttered musical metal and wooden chimes. If there had been people in the streets, it would seem that it was a festive market day, with carts filled with wares to trade and games to play.

A few blocks away, the capitol's monumental tower stood proudly over its blossoming city.

Clarke nearly smiled at being so close to their goal.

They walked for some minutes at a nearly casual pace. Lexa seemed to drag more slowly here than she had in the City of Light. Clarke, noticing this new pace with exasperation, wondered if Lexa needed to rest. But a glance at the commander's face and the shine in her green eyes revealed a want in her that Clarke could never fill. A desire to see all of her citizen's happy and at peace on a perfect market day like this had been one of Lexa's ultimate goals during her reign. Her legacy was supposed to be peace, and seeing that peace across the land had been a secret wish within her heart. The sadness at having died before accomplishing this task was painted clearly across Lexa's eyes, and if Clarke could say something to ease this regret, she would. But there were no words for the regrets of the dead. So she turned her gaze forward to allow the wounded commander to stare at her perfect capitol as they wound through its dusty streets.

When they reached the base of the tower, Clarke briefly panicked about how they would reach the top floors if there were no grounders to power the elevator.

"Lovely place ya got." A weaselly voice called out from a stall near the tower. Both girls turned. Clarke instinctively reached for the knife around her thigh, but Lexa squeezed her neck in the faintest way so as to give the blonde lioness pause.

A mop of roan red hair nodded at them from the stall. A pale, brown freckled man glanced up at the tower. "Ya let the place go to shit, but at least the weather's betta." He said, leaning over and sniffing at a row mysterious kebabs that were smoking on a grill.

"Heda Barlomew." Lexa said, nodding respectfully once. "What brings you here?"

Barlomew took a kebab from the grill and nibbled at the top, as if to deduce the origin of the mystery meat.

"I was on ma way to meet the new commander." He shrugged. "Didn't last long, didya?" He said snidely, gesturing the kebab in Clarke's direction.

Clarke bristled, but Lexa spoke before her. "I'm afraid there will be no naming ceremony at the time. Many things have changed, and Becca Primeheda is searching for ways to assist the next commander, if you wish to join her."

"An' you, then?" Barlomew asked, chewing on the last bite of his kebab.

Unphased at his rudeness, Lexa responded. "We shall return once I've regained my strength."

"Yea, yea. I heard you was off to do somein with the Old Flame. You didn't lose didya?" Clarke jutted her chin at this annoying man, wondering at what a poor kind of leader he was as commander.

"I did not." Lexa replied calmly. "There are trains that lead directly to Becca now. She will be expecting you, I'm sure." She nodded politely again, and pivoted slightly on her good leg. Clarke took this as a signal to begin walking away.

"Goin to get your old body, then?" Barlomew asked mischeviously. Lexa paused, waiting for him to continue.

"Careful, you'll get everythin back the way it was, then." Lexa glanced back at the easy looking fellow eating at her market's stall. "Hope you an ya girl didna do nothin important your hopin to remember after that, then." He said selecting another kebab from the grill.

Lexa looked down at Clarke for the barest instant. The renewed hope and kisses and l love you's that they had shared since Clarke's arrival in the City of Light passed across their minds. A new fear settled in Clarke's chest. Memories were the only thing that mattered here in this purgatory.

"Thank you, Barlomew." Lexa said, almost pleasantly, interrupting Clarke's thoughts. "We shall see you with Becca and the others, then."

Together Lexa and Clarke made their way into the tower, leaving Barlomew with his kebab. He shrugged and continued eating, an activity he had not been able to enjoy as commander, during the time of wide spread famine throughout the clans.

The elevators worked, thankfully, fueled by the same invisible power that had lit candles inside the tower, and had kept kebabs on the grill, and fresh produce in the market's stalls. Lexa was silent, and Clarke couldn't breath in enough air to break the silence. Barlomew's words filled up the space of the elevator and seemed to suffocate her.

Fixing Lexa was Clarke's first and foremost goal. She'd had none other than that since Lexa had first been shot. But now that they were nearly there, just steps away from rejuvenation, she couldn't help but feel a great sense of what she was about to lose once Lexa became whole again. They had touched and kissed each other freely ever since Lexa had rescued her, and she'd said 'I love you' to her for the first time...

Those memories would always be precious to Clarke, and it seemed they would be precious to her and her alone very soon.

The elevator doors opened and they slowly stepped into the hallway. Clarke's room was at the end of hall and they took even more time walking there than they had walking throughout the city.

Lexa unwrapped her arm from around Clarke's shoulder before they reached the door. She curled painfully even more into herself as she stood alone, but she gestured for Clarke to open the door.

With a slight tremor in her hand, Clarke turned the door handle and opened her door. The inside of her room was filled with warm light and familiar furnishings. Her bed was made and the white fur atop it was pristine and without the slightest hint of black blood among any of its long shaggy hairs.

Clarke stepped aside for Lexa to move through the doorway, but the crippled girl did not move.

"Will you," She whispered, eyes downcast, "be the first thing I see?"

Clarke's eyes brimmed with tears, and it took all of her power not to cry. She carefully reached out and cradled Lexa's cheek in her hand. She leaned forward and kissed her long and sweetly before moving a few steps inside of the door. This room always seemed to devastate her in the worst ways.

"I love you." Clarke said huskily, nodding for Lexa to begin.

Lexa reached out with her good hand to touch the door frame. A low minor note pierced the air and the door frame seemed to light up at her broken presence. The swelling and broken nails of her right hand began to delete and reconfigure themselves into the perfect original shape that they had been the day of Lexa's death. Lexa gasped and retracted her hand. It stayed as whole and healthy as if it were never damaged to begin with. She glanced up at Clarke, surprised, and took a bold step forward with her weaker left leg. Her arm and shoulder crossed the threshold first and she was slowed down, as if she were pressing through a thick tar, rather than clear air. Feeling returned to her entire left arm and she was able clench her fist in anticipation as her head and chest began to pass the door frame. The blood flowing from her ear seemed to disintegrate on contact with the imaginary wall that she was passing through and the ringing in her ear faded at last. Her ribs were set back into place without a single pinch or pang of pain and her skin faded from black, to purple, to red, and finally a healthy pink.

When at last every single physical ailment had been righted, Lexa's speed returned to normal and she nearly staggered forward after pressing so forcefully through the door frame.

Her bright green eyes lifted up and alighted on to the waiting Clarke. Clarke was smiling, and crying. They'd done it.

Lexa took in the beauty of Clarke's happiness and stood up gracefully and took the remaining steps between them and pressed Clarke into a strong kiss. Clarke began laughing through kisses and tears, but Lexa did not release her.

Instead, she deepened the kiss and walked Clarke backwards into a wall. Clarke's hands roamed over Lexa's skin and under her coat. With a quick movement the coat was on the floor, leaving Lexa in her breast bindings and pants. Lexa nearly tore Clarke's jacket and shirt from her skin, their kiss only breaking to remove her weapons from Clarke's back.

"Lexa?" Clarke moaned. Lexa was in no mood for talking, and so she lifted Clarke up onto her hips and had her legs wrap around her waist. They were wild together, lips and tongues and teeth scraping across every exposed bit of flesh.

When at last their pants became too hindering for their activities, Lexa carried them to the bed and threw Clarke onto the white furs. She unbuckled Clarke's knife first, and then her pants, kissing every inch of skin that she unwrapped as if Clarke were a birthday gift. When Clarke lay bare on the bed, she looked down at her handiwork with hooded eyes and parted lips. Clarke was breathtaking.

Clarke sat up and scooted up to the edge of the bed, hooking her hands around the waist of Lexa's pants. She pulled the girl closer and kissed her taunt abdomen, unbuttoning the pants and sliding them down her hips and past her tan legs. Lexa stepped out of her pants and into the space between Clarke's legs. She tipped Clarke's head up and captured her lips once more.

They fell to the bed together, each pressing as much of their body as the could to the other. Hands reached out and squeezed and groped, legs were entwined together, lips locked onto mouths, nipples, and fingers, and cries of extacy rang out through the room and into the open skies of the surrounding the tower.

Hours passed, as evident by the bright firey sunset that slew blinding rays of light through the windows of Clarke's room.

The girls laid comfortably together, Lexa wrapped around Clarke, and their foreheads touching. Their eyes were closed, but neither was asleep.

In the silence and without opening her eyes, Lexa whispered. "I love you too, Clarke."

Clarke opened her eyes and stared at the face of the person she had come the cherish the most. Lexa slowly did the same and smiled. Without hesitation, Clarke rolled on top of Lexa and began kissing every inch of her perfect face, and for the first time in their entire time together, Clarke heard Lexa begin to laugh.

They would not be leaving that bed for the rest of the night.


End file.
